


0107

by UWORU



Category: Original Work
Genre: what?? huh??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:20:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24602266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UWORU/pseuds/UWORU
Summary: It's been nice knowing you.
Kudos: 1





	0107

Acceptance is a virtue of man, a comfort of even the sharpest of wire brushing against skin as a thread of silk.

The silence it weighs with hums a tune of beauty, its chords devoid of heart hanging over us, under the dim light that passes through our very beings.

_Kicking up the dirt beneath your dragging feet, the ground stops, and beyond is acceptance._

With its graceful steps under the spotlight, it creates a dance so simple yet challenging to follow, in tandem with the rhythm of an encore held far too early into the show.

_With missing parts, what is to be done about incomplete acts? Will you step onto the stage and take the hand of the shadows, or discontinue the performance?_

Pacing around the matter, crashing in head on, concealed by the puppets that serve to mock, wills meld together and tear apart, leaving in its fiery wake a lost child, a fool who has lost his senses.

_After all, is it not just a farce? Another day in status-quo?  
What is there to run from?  
Why have my actions brought upon their consequences only now?_

The curtains are raised again, with a swift push and pull, and the show ends before it begins.

_Maybe only briefly, but it's there. Softness tinged with thorns, ichor mixing with mud._

From the first line, from the climax and conflict, resignation and defeat, a breath short simplifies it all into one.

_Inevitably lost. A branch of fate that taunts the weak._

_The grandfather clock rings, a resonance woven with caution in its waves, falling on deaf ears, suffocated by the cries of doubt._

_Acceptance, stumbled upon and picked up at the end of a road._

So, smile to the audience and those who will walk away from the act. Let them know you've tried your best. If they, too, are content, then being carried away by the reflections of a tragedy will be an end devoid of sorrows.

_In a cold and hollow embrace is where acceptance lies in wait._

If you just accept that your story ends here, that's ultimately for the best.

_As long as you have done no sin, what is there to fear? Stand proud, not that it matters in the end. Momentary comfort? An illusion of hope? Such childish ideas are flushed out by waves of the crimson seas._

_The mess left by violence is yours to come to terms with. Acceptance settles over the remains of what once was, occasionally stirred._

For you have wished the blade at your throat well, and surely it will pay no mind to your face amongst many.

_Just like waking from a curse, maybe a spell cast by one's own folly._

_A crowd erupting in chaos is far too loud. Just as when the mind speaks, the heart does not. Trapped in a cage, it can only weep._

Disappearing and fading, regret is poured away along with the happiness that seeps from the cracks of a broken vase, flowing out through your veins as a gift of farewell.

_The happy ending you desired, have you obtained it? Are you satisfied with what you have given up for a petty victory today?_

_If your answer is no, what about it then?  
What choice do you have now, that won't be an utter waste of life?_

_You remember it, don't you? How they looked at you back then. It was a lesson._

_Come to terms with it._

_Grieve your mistakes,  
only after you accept them as what they truly are, and see yourself in them._


End file.
